Septuaginta, Job, ed. Henry Barclay Swete D.D., 10

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κάμνων τῇ ψυχῇ μου.

στένων ἐπαφήσω ἐπʼ αὐτὸν τὰ ῥήματά μου·

¹³

λαλήσαω πικρίᾳ ψυχῆς μου συνεχόμενος.

καὶ ἐρῶ πρὸς Κύριον Μή με ἀσεβεῖν δίδασκε·

καὶ διὰ τί με οὕτως ἔκρινας;

ἢ καλόν σοι ἐὰν ἀδικήσω;

ὅτι ἀπείπω ἔργα χειρῶν σου,

βουλῆ δὲ ἀσεβῶν προσέσχες;

ἢ ὥσπερ βροτὸς ὁρᾷ καθορᾷς;

ἢ καθὼς ὁρᾷ ἄνθρωπος βλέψῃς

ἢ ὁ βίος σου ἀνθρώπινός ἐστιν,

ἢ τὰ ἔτη σου ἀνδρός;

ὃτι ἀνεζήτησας τὴν ἀνομίαν μου,

καὶ τὰς ἁμαρτίας μου ἐξιχνίασας;

οἲδας γὰρ ὅτι οὐκ ἠσέβησα·

ἀλλὰ τίς ἐστιν ὁ ἐκ τῶν χειρῶν σου ἐξαιρούμενος

αἱ χεῖρές σου ἔπλασάν με καὶ ἐποίησάν με.

μετὰ ταῦτα μεταβαλὼν με ἔπαισας.

⁴

§9μνήσθητι ὅτι πηλόν με ἔπλασας,

εἰς δὲ γῆν με πάλιν ἀποστρέφεις.

ἢ οὐχ ὥσπερ γάλα με ἤμελξας,

ἐτύρωσας δέ με ἲσα τυρῷ ;

δέρμα δὲ καὶ κρέα με ἐνέδυσας,

ὀστέοις δέ καὶ νεύροις με ἔνειρας·

ζωὴν δὲ καὶ ἔλεος ἔθου παρʼ ἐμοί,

ἡ δὲ ἐπισκοπή σου ἐφύλαξέν μου τὸ πνεῦμα.

ταῦτα ἔχων ἐν σεαυτῷ οἶδα ὅτι πάντα δύνασαι·

ἀδυνατεῖ δέ σοι οὐθέν.

ἐάν τε γὰρ ἁμάρτω, φυλάσσεις με,

ἀπὸ δὲ ἀνομίας οὐκ ἀθῷόν με πεποίηκας.

ἐάν τε γὰρ ἀσεβήσω, οἲμοι·

ἐὰν δὲ δἰκαιος, οὐ δύναμαι ἀνακύψαι.

πλήρης γὰρ ἀτιμίας εἰμί.

⁵⁶

ἀγρεύομαι γὰρ ὥσπερ λέων εἰς σφαγήν·

πάλιν γὰρ μεταβαλὼν δεινῶς με ὀλέκεις.

ἐπανακαινίζων ἐπʼ ἐμὲ τὴν ἔτασίν μου·

ὀργῇ δὲ μεγάλη μοι ἐχρήσω.

ἐπήγαγες δὲ ἐπʼ ἐμέ πειρατήρια.

ἲνα τί οὖν ἐκ κοιλίας με ἐξήγαγες, καὶ οὐκ ἀπέθανον,

ὀφθαλμὸς δέ με οὐκ εἶδεν,

καὶ ὥσπερ οὐκ ὤν ἐγενόμην

διὰ τί γὰρ ἐκ γαστρὸς εἰς μνῆμα οὐκ ἀπηλλάγην;

ἤ οὐκ ὀλίγος ἐστὶν ὁ βίος τοῦ χρόνου μου

ἔασόν με ἀναπαύσασθαι μικρὸν

πρὸ τοῦ με πορευθῆναι ὅθεν οὐκ ἀναστρέψω,

εἰς γῆν σκοτινὴν καὶ γνοφεράν,

(22)εἰς γῆν σκότους αἰωνίου, οὗ οὐκ ἔστιν φέγγος

οὐδὲ ὁρᾶν ζωὴν βροτῶν.

Job. Septuaginta. ed. Henry Barclay Swete D.D.. United States. 2017.

Funding provided by Harvard Library Arcadia Fund.

Current edition First1KGreek

Ἰώβ (Greek) (Septuaginta. The Old Testament in Greek According to the Septuagint. Volume 2: I Chronicles-Tobit. Swete, Henry Barclay, editor. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1896.)

Editions (1)

Homeric Greek (James Duport, 1676) (OCR draft) Experimental (James Duport, Threnothriambos: a Homeric Greek verse paraphrase of Job (1676).) — 10.1 focus

Ὦμοι ἐγὼ δειλός· τί νύ μοι μήκιστα γένηται;

Ὡς ἐμοὶ ἀσπασίη εἴη βιότοιο τελευτή·

Ὡς ὄφελον θανέειν· ζωὴν δ' ἐμὸν ἔσχεθεν ἦτορ.

Φθέγξομαι ὅσσα ἅ με πένθος ἐνὶ στήθεσσι κελεύει,

Οὐ νέμεσις γὰρ πικρὸν ἐνὶ φρεσὶ θυμὸν ἔχον-

ταἮν ἄτιον κλαίειν, καὶ ὀδυρόμενον μινυρίζειν,

Κήδεά τ' ὅσσ' ἔπαθεν, βαρέα στενάχοντ' ἀγορεύειν.

Ἀλλ' ἐρέω γε Θεῷ, Οὐ μὴ κατ' ἐμεῖο δικάζῃς,

Δείκνυθί μοι, τί νυ τόσσον ὀδυρομένῳ χαλεπαίνεις;

Ἦ ἄρα τοι φίλον ἐστὶ κατατρύχειν τὰ σὰ ἔργα;

Ἦ τοι ἀπόβλητ' ἐστὶ τεῶν δαιδάλματα χειρῶν;

Ἦ ἐπ' ἀμαρτινόων ὀλοόφρονα διώκεαι φωτῶν

Ἀντέλλειν ἐθέλεις γλυκερὸν σέο φέγγος ὀπωπαῖς;

Ποῖοί γαρ τεοὶ ὀφθαλμοὶ, ἐπεὶ ἔααι πανόπτης;

Ἦ ἄρα σάρκινοί εἰσι καὶ ἀνδρομέοισιν ὁμοῖοι;

Ὄμματα καὶ κεφαλῇμι δειλῷ βροτῷ ἴκελός ἐσσι;

Δέρκεαι ὡς ἄνθρωπος, ὅῳ φάος ἐστὶν ἀμαυρόν;

Ἤματά σοι βεβάασιν ὁμῶς μερόπεσσι βροτοῖσιν;

Ἦ τοι παρμέμβλωκε βίος, περὶ δ' ἔτραπον ὧραι

Μηνῶν φθινόντων, περιτελλομένων τ' ἐνιαυτῶν,

Οἷά περ ἀνθρώπῳ, μινυώριον ὃν τέκε μήτηρ;

Ἀμπλακίας ὅτ' ἐμεῖο διηνεκέως ἐρεείνεις,

Ἴχνια μαστεύων, καὶ ἀμαρτάδα πᾶσαν ἐραννῶν.

Εὖ μὲν γὰρ τόδε οἶσθ', ὅτι οὐκ ἀθεμίστιός εἰμι.

Ῥύσασθαι δ' τεῶν οὔτις δυνάτ' ἐκ παλαμάων.

Χειρὸς ἔγωγε τεῆς τέχνημα μέγ' εὔχομαι εἶναι,

Ἤ με κάμψε τάχιστα, τὸ πρὶν καὶ μηδὲν ἐόντα,

Εὖ καὶ ἐπισταμένως, ἅμα τε πρόσσω καὶ ὀπίσσω·

Ἔπλασεν· ἀλλ' ἔμπης ἐμέθεν φείσασθαι ἔμελλες.

Φράζεο νῦν τεὸν ἔργον, ἰδ' ἐν φρεσὶ βάλλεο σῇσι,

Γεννητά σε, Ἄναξ, μιμνήσκεο, μηδέ σε λήθη

Αἱρείτω, τὸ πάλαι ὅτι μ' ἔπλασας, ἠΰτε πηλὸν,

Τόν τ' ἔκαμε πλάστης πολυϊδρείῃσι νόοιο·

Καὶ πάλιν ἐς κονίην καὶ μητέρα γαῖαν ἀνάξεις;

Ὡς δ' ὅτ' ὀπὸς γάλα λευκὸν ἐπειγόμενος συνέπηξεν

Ὑγρὸν ἐὸν, μάλα δ' ὦκα περιτρέφεται, κυκόωντι·

Ὡς ἄρα μ' ἐξέχεάς τε καὶ ἠΰτε τυρὸν ἔπηξας.

Ἀμφὶ περὶ χρόα μοι βάλες, ἄρραφον εὖτε χιτῶνα,

Δημῷ καὶ σάρκεσσιν ἐμὸν δέμας ἀμφεκάλυψας,

Γόμφοισιν πυκινοῖσι, καὶ ἁρμονίῃσιν ἄρηρας,

Ὀστέοισιν πίοισιν ἰδὲ νεύροισιν ἔδησας·

Προφρονέως ζωήν τε χάριν τέ μοι ἐγγυάλιξας·

Ψυχήν μου ἐσάωσε τεὸν πανεπίσκοπον ὄμμα,

Θρέψε τε τὴν πρῶτον ζωαρκέα δῶκεν ἀϋτμήν.

Καὶ τὰ μὲν ἔνδον ἔχεις, καὶ ἐνὶ φρεσὶ βυσσοδομεύεις·

Εὖ δ' ἄρα γινώσκω, ὅτι σοι πάρα ταῦτα τέτυκται.

Εἴποτ' ἀλιτραίνω, σὺ μάλ' ἔκδικον ὄμμα τιταίνων

Ἐμματέως νοέεις με, καὶ οὐ νήποινον ἀφήσεις.

Ὤμοι ἐγὼ δύστηνος, ἀτάσθαλος εἴποτ' ἐτύχθην·

Εἰ δ᾽ ἆ δίκαιος ἔω, καὶ ἐνὶ φρεσὶν ἄρτια εἰδώς,

Οὐδ᾽ ὣς μοι θέμις εἴη ἔχειν ὑψαύχενα θυμόν·

Πίμπλαμαι αἰσχύνης, σὺ δέ μοι ἐπιδέρκεαι οἰζύν.

Λίην γὰρ χαλεπή, καὶ ἀέξεται αἰὲν ἐφ᾽ ὥρης.

Ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε λέων σίντης ὀρεσίτροφος, ἀλκὶ πεποιθώς,

Ὅς τ᾽ ἐπεὶ ἐν ἔλαφον κεραόν, ἢ ἄγριον αἶγα

Εὗρεν ἐνὶ βήσσῃσι, κακὰ φρονέων ἐπόρουσεν·

Ὡς σύ με νῦν δειλὸν καὶ ἀνάλκιδα φῶτα διώκεις

Ἐσσυμένως· τάχα δ᾽ αὖ καὶ ἐμοὶ ἔπι μέρμερα ῥέξεις·

Μάστιγας κατ᾽ ἐμεῖο, χόλου μάλα μάρτυρας αἰνῆς

Ἴλαδον ὀτρύνεις, καὶ ἐπήτριμοι ἄλλος ἐπ᾽ ἄλλον

Ἀντίβιοί μοι ἔασι μόθοι, πόλεμοί τε, μάχαι τε.

Τίπτέ με μητρείης ἐῤῥύσαο γαστέρος ἔξω

Σχέτλιους; ὡς θανέειν ὄφελον, καὶ πότμον ἐπισπεῖν,

Ὄφρ᾽ ἔτι ἡμιτέλεστος ἔω ἐνὶ γαστρὶ τεκούσης·

Ὡς οὐδεὶς ὄφελέν μέ ποτ᾽ ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἰδέσθαι.

Τοῖος ἔω, δῖος, τόνδ᾽ ὅππως ἐγείνατο μήτηρ,

Οὐδὲ φάος ποτ᾽ ὄπωπε, καὶ ὅππως ἐόντι ἐῴκειν·

Αὐτίκα δ᾽ ἐκ νηδύος πεφορημένος ἐς τάφον ἦλθον,

Ἔνθά κε νῦν κείμην μαλακῷ δεδμημένος ὕπνῳ.

Ἦ ῥ᾽ οὐκ ἤματα παῦρα, μινυνθάδιός τέ μοι αἰών;

Τῷ μ᾽ ἔα, ὄφρ᾽ ὀλίγον πρὸ ἀναπνείσω κακότητος,

Πρίν με μολεῖν, ὅθεν οὐ μέλλω πάλιν ἀπονέεσθαι,

Γαῖαν ἐς ἀχλυόεσσαν, ὅθι κὴρ ἀμφιμέλαινα,

Καὶ σκιὴ ὀλομὴ ναίει, καὶ νὺξ ἐρεβεννή·

Χῶρον ἐς ὀρφναῖον, σκότεός τε μελάντερον αὐτοῦ,

Ἦ, μόρος ὄβριμογυῖος ἔχει σκιόεντα μέλαθρα;

Ἦ, κόσμος χάος ἐστὶν ὅλος, καὶ φέγγος ὁμίχλη.

Translations (3)

Job Perseus (World English Bible. Revision of the American Standard Version of 1901. Rainbow Missions, Inc., 2000-2024.) — 10 focus

My soul is weary of my life; I will give free course to my complaint. I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.

I will tell God, Do not condemn me, Show me why you contend with me.

Is it good to you that you should oppress, That you should despise the work of your hands, And smile on the counsel of the wicked?

Do you have eyes of flesh? Or do you see as man sees?

Are your days as the days of mortals, Or your years as man’s years,

That you inquire after my iniquity, And search after my sin?

Although you know that I am not wicked, There is no one who can deliver out of your hand.

Your hands have framed me and fashioned me altogether; Yet you destroy me.

Remember, I beg you, that you have fashioned me as clay. Will you bring me into dust again?

Haven’t you poured me out like milk, And curdled me like cheese?

You have clothed me with skin and flesh, And knit me together with bones and sinews.

You have granted me life and lovingkindness. Your visitation has preserved my spirit.

Yet you hid these things in your heart. I know that this is with you:

If I sin, then you mark me. You will not acquit me from my iniquity.

If I am wicked, woe to me. If I am righteous, I still shall not lift up my head, Being filled with disgrace, And conscious of my affliction.

If my head is held high, you hunt me like a lion. Again you show yourself powerful to me.

You renew your witnesses against me, And increase your indignation on me. Changes and warfare are with me.

Why, then, have you brought me forth out of the womb? I wish I had given up the spirit, and no eye had seen me.

I should have been as though I had not been. I should have been carried from the womb to the grave.

Aren’t my days few? Cease then, Leave me alone, that I may find a little comfort,

Before I go where I shall not return from, To the land of darkness and of the shadow of death;

The land dark as midnight, Of the shadow of death, without any order, Where the light is as midnight.

English (DeepSeek, 2026) (OCR draft) Experimental (Machine-assisted English translation of James Duport's Homeric Greek verse paraphrase of Job.) — 10.1 focus

[1] Woe is me, wretched man! Why then should my end be the longest? How welcome to me would the end of life be! Would that I had died! But my heart has held onto life. I will speak whatever grief in my breast bids me, for it is no reproach, when one has a bitter spirit in his heart, to weep for his misery and, lamenting, to murmur, and to tell aloud all the sorrows he has suffered, groaning heavily.

[2] But I will speak at least to God: Do not judge me by your own standard; show me why you are so angry with me as I grieve.

[3] Is it then pleasing to you to oppress your own works? Are the handiworks of your hands then to be rejected? Or do you pursue a destructive purpose against sinful mortals? Do you wish your sweet light to shine upon their eyes?

[4] For what kind are your eyes, since you are one who sees all? Are they then fleshly and like those of a mortal man? Do you have eyes and a head like a wretched mortal? Do you see as a man does, whose light is dim?

[5] Are your days gone by just like those of mortal men? Is your life indeed passed by, and have the seasons turned about as months wane and years roll round, just as for a man whom his mother bore but for a little while?

[6] Since you persistently inquire into my guilt, tracking down footprints and searching out every sin.

[7] For well you know this, that I am not lawless. But no one is able to rescue from your hands.

[8] I myself boast that I am the great handiwork of your hand, which you fashioned most swiftly, me who before was nothing, well and skillfully, both forward and backward. He fashioned me; but nevertheless you were about to spare me.

[9] Consider now your work, and cast it into your mind, O offspring — remember me, O Lord, and let not forgetfulness seize you, that long ago you molded me like clay, which the potter too labored over with the many-skilled thoughts of his mind. And will you bring me back again into dust and mother earth?

[10] As when rennet, hastening, curdles white milk that is liquid, and it is quickly turned about, churning it. Thus then you poured me out, and like cheese you curdled me.

[11] You clothed me with skin and flesh all around; you covered my body with skin and flesh, you knit me together with close-set bones and joints, and you bound me with fat bones and sinews.

[12] Willingly you granted me life and favor. Your all-seeing eye preserved my soul, and it nourished it and gave the life-sustaining breath that came first.

[13] And you have these things within you, and you brood over them in your heart; But I know well, indeed, that these things are prepared by you.

[14] If ever I do wrong, you, stretching a most avenging eye, mark me, and you will not let me go unpunished.

[15] Woe is me, wretched that I am, if ever I was made wicked; But if I am righteous, and know what is fitting in my heart, even so it is not lawful for me to hold a proud spirit; I am filled with shame, and you look upon my misery.

[16] For it is exceedingly harsh, and it grows ever with the season. And as when a ravening lion, mountain-bred, trusting in its strength, which, when it has found a horned stag or a wild goat in the glens, springs forth with evil intent; So you now pursue me, a cowardly and strengthless man, eagerly; and presently again you will do dreadful things against me too;

[17] You stir up whips against me, very much witnesses of dread wrath, O Ilados; and thick upon one another, hostile battles, wars, and fights are upon me.

[18] Why did you bring me forth out of the womb, O cruel one? Would that I had died and met my fate, so that no eye had ever seen me, while I was still unfinished in the womb of my mother! Would that no one had ever seen me with their eyes.

[19] Such was I, wretched man, as though my mother had never borne me, and I had never seen the light, and as I was when I came into being; Forthwith, carried from the womb, I came to the grave, where I would now be lying, overcome by soft sleep.

[20] Is not my life but few days, and short-lived? Leave me alone, so that I may breathe a little before my misery, before I go to the place from which I shall not return, to the murky land, where the dark death-demon dwells, and dread shadow, and gloomy night;

Πρίν με μολεῖν, ὅθεν οὐ μέλλω πάλιν ἀπονέεσθαι,

Γαῖαν ἐς ἀχλυόεσσαν, ὅθι κὴρ ἀμφιμέλαινα,

Καὶ σκιὴ ὀλομὴ ναίει, καὶ νὺξ ἐρεβεννή·

[22] To a dark region, darker than gloom itself — is it so? — does a death mighty-limbed hold shadowy halls? Is it so? The whole world is chaos, and its light is mist.

Latin (James Duport, 1676) (OCR draft) Experimental (Duport's facing Latin translation of his Homeric Greek verse paraphrase of Job (1676).) — 10.1 focus

HEu me miſerum ! quid mecum tandem fiet ?

Quàm mihi gratus eſſet vitæ terminus !

Utinam mortuus eſſem! à vita autem meum abhorret cor.

Eloquar ergò ea quæ me luctus in pectore jubet

Neque enim ægrè-id-ferendum-eſt, ſi quis amaram in animo

mentem habens

Calamitatem ſuam deflear, & lamentans quiritetur,

Et ærumnaſ, quas ſuſtinuit, graviter ingemiſcens commemaret.

At dicam Deo, Nequaquam me condemnes:

Oſtende mihi, quare tantopere ſuccenſens indignaris.

Nunquid tibi placitum eſt affligere tua opera ?

Nunquid tibi deſpicatui ſunt tuarum artificia manuum ?

Num ſuper peccatorum pernicioſa conſilia virorum

Oriri vis dulce lumen tui vultûs ?

Quales enim ſunt tui oculi , quandoquidem es omnium- conſpector?

Nunquid carnei ſunt, & humanis ſimiles?

Oculis & capite miſero mortali ſimilis es ?

Aſpicis ut homo, cujus lumen eſt obſcurum ?

Diéſne tibi prætergreſſi ſunt perinde at q; que hominibus mortalibus?

Vel num tibi tranſit vita, & circumvertuntur horæ

Menſibus declinantibus, volventibúſque annis,

Pariter at q; que homini, citò-periturum quem peperit mater ?

Quòd in delicta mea jugiter inquiris ,

Veſtigia indagans, & peccatum omne perſcrutans.

Probè enim hoc nôſti, quòd ſceleratus non ſum,

Liberare autem tuis nemo poteſt è manibus.

Manûs ego tuæ artificium valde glorior eſſe,

Quæ me elaborans fecit, priùs vel nihil exiſtentem;

Bene & ſcienter, ſimúlque à facie & à tergo

Formavit: at neque ſic mihi parcere futurus es.

Conſidera nunc tuum opus, & animo perpende tuo;

Obſecro te, Rex, memento; nec te oblivio

Capiat, quòd olim me finxiſti, veluti argillam

Quam efformavit figulus peritiâ mentis;

Et rurſus in pulverem, & matrem terram rediges?

Sicut quando coagulum lac album citatum coegit,

Quod erat liquidum ; valde autem velociter concreſcit miſcenti;

Sic utique me effudiſti, & velut caſeum coagulâſti.

Cutem mihi undi q; que circundediſti, inconſutilem veluti tunicam

Adipe & carne meum corpus circumtexiſti,

Clavis denſis & compagibus coagmentâſti,

Offibus tot, & nervis ligâſti :

Promptè vitámque favorémque mihi exhibuiſti;

Animam meam ſervavit tuus omnium-inſpector oculus,

Aluít q; que quem primùm vitalem dedit ſpiritum.

Et hæc quidem intus habes; & in animo profundè-cogitas;

Bene equidem novi, quòd apud te hæc ſunt.

Siquando pecco, tu admodum vindicem oculum intendens

Statim obſervas me, & non impunitum dimittes.

Hei mihi miſero, improbus ſi fuero !

Quod ſi juſtus eſſem, & in mente integra ſciens,

Ne q; que ſic mihi fas eſſet habere elatum animum.

Oppletus ſum dedecore, tu verò meam aſpice miſeriam:

Valde enim gravis eſt, & creſcit ſemper in horas.

Sicut autem leo nocivus montanus, robore fiſus,

Qui cùm cervum cornutum, aut agreſtem capram

Invenerit in ſaltibus, infeſto animo irruit :

Ità tu me nunc miſerum & imbecillem hominem perſequeris,

Acríter: mox autem rurſus etiam in me mira facis.

Flagella contra me iræ admodum teſtes gravis

Catervatim incitas, & denſi, alius poſt alium,

Adverſarii mihi ſunt tumultus, belláque, pugnáque.

Quarè me materno eripuiſti ex utero

Miſellum? Utinam periiſſem & fato functus fuiſſem,

Quando adhuc ſemiperfectus eram in ventre genitricis!

Utinam nemo me unquam oculis vidiſſet !

Talis eſſem, qualis quem nondum genuit mater,

Nec lucem unqu ā am aſpexit,& nondum exiſtenti ſimilis forem:

Statim verò ab utero geſtatus ad ſepulcrum veniſſem,

Ubi nunc jacerem molli obrutus ſomno.

Nonne dies pauci, brevéque mihi ævum ?

Ideo ſine me, ut pauxillùm reſpirem à calamitate,

Antequam vadam, unde haud iterum reverſurus ſum;

Terram ad caliginoſam, ubi Parca nigra,

Et umbra exitialis habitat, & nox obſcura;

Locum ad tenebricoſum, tenebríſque atriorem ipſis,

Ubi mors horrida habet umbroſa palatia,

Ubi ordo chaos eſt omnis,& lux caligo.

Notes on the current edition

Job

1. U+05D0A

3. B

4. § C

5. U+05D0ΑC

Septuaginta Job 10

ed. Henry Barclay Swete D.D.

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